


Un Corazon - God Only Knows

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-07
Updated: 2005-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: From there, how the day ends is in your hands. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand.





	1. Un Corazon - God Only Knows

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Un Corazon - God Only Knows**

**by: Regency**

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** Angst, Romance  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I only own Secret Agent Mann.  
**Summary:** Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: From there, how the day ends is in your hands. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand.  
**Spoiler:** The last episode of the last season of the West Wing.  
**Feedback:** asabbeyaspossible@yahoo.com  
**Author's Note:** Sequel to "Dos Aviones - Right Hand Man". I meant for this to be the end, but it didn't happen that way. So, I guess this will be a trilogy. 

Josiah Rising 

She stares at him from her end of the carpet. She is paralyzed. Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: _From there, how the day ends is in your hands_. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand. She looks down at her hands. These hands that have saved souls and saved lives. Hands that have loved and lost. Sometimes, all in the same caress. The hands that will change lives today, but she is uncertain how. She is in need of guidance. She looks to her right and blinks. It's him; Secret Agent Mann. His eyes are hidden behind shades, but she can feel him watching her. 

_From there, how the day ends is in your hands_. His words mock her where she stands, afraid of the man she is so desperate to hold onto. Unconsciously, she seeks him, seeks his presence and his love. Why would he do this? Why tell her she is loved, only to leave her lonely? Why would he do this? Why is he...? She has to know. 

She holds her head up high and pretends that her lightheadedness comes only from the chilling cold and not his fathomless gaze. His eyes watch her and she wonders if he is as afraid as she. Does he fear the parting he has invoked? The loneliness that surely awaits him in the air? Does his heart pound painfully against his ribcage in retort to hers that dares break? Does he wish to touch her, kiss her just once more? She doesn't know. She wants to know. She needs to know. 

Before she fully realizes what's happening, she finds herself moving towards him. It's not a conscious choice of mind, but one her soul makes for her in its impatience. She can't be stopped. She doesn't want to be. His souls calls for her like a siren to the rocks. Will she crash? She doesn't know nor does she care. He calls for her. She goes to him. 

She stops only inches away from being able to reach out and touch him. He is too far to touch, but not too far to feel. She can taste him in the air. He is everything. He is all she sees. She doesn't hear the camera flashes anymore. He has captivated her all over again. Her chest is tight; his scent feels her nostrils. Her skin burns with his heat. Her fingertips tingle with the desire to press themselves against the clothed flesh they know so well. She is mesmerized. 

It's far too silent. No one moves, no one breathes. A spell has been cast and none wish it dissipated. There is far too much to see. She licks her parched lips and clasps her hands in front of her. Her eyes drop from his, back to her hands. In your hands. She takes another step. They're nearly toe to toe now. She can look into his eyes. She does. 

_Where are you going?_

Away... 

From me? 

Never... 

Then, why? His eyes flit away from hers. _What's wrong?_ He makes a vague shrugging movement. _Don't say nothing. Something's wrong. What is it?_

_I'm okay._

No, you aren't. What. Is. Wrong? He sighs. He's getting frustrated. So is she. 

She wants to touch him, but not with these people watching. They'd don't get to see this. This is for them. Only for them. _Talk to me_. He puts his hand out. 

_Come with me._ She doesn't hesitate to take it. She'd follow him to hell, though she is hoping not to have to. They walk up the staircase onto his plane. It's nice. Not nearly as nice as Air Force One, but that's alright. He's here. That's all she cares about. He takes her from the door, to another staircase. They rise. There's an apartment here too. A bedroom. He leads her in and closes the door behind him. They're alone. She turns around and waits. 

"You look beautiful, Abigail." She gives her gown a cursory look and rakes her finger through her upped curls. A fine time to say such a thing, she thinks. 

"You look handsome." He adjusts his jacket and nods. Why won't he speak? He looks at her under low lids. He licks his lips and stuffs his hands into his pockets. She feels lightheaded. "Why did you bring me here?" He sighs. 

"You have questions. You want answers. Ask your questions." She blinks at his frankness. She expected him to beat around the bush a little. Okay. Now, she isn't so sure she wants to have this conversation. 

"Don't I have a plane to catch?" He looks absently at his watch as she does the same. 

"Don't worry. We're hours ahead of schedule. They can wait awhile." It's too late for not worrying. The time for that was before their talk this morning. She puts down her purse and moves around a bit. She can't look at him right now. It distracts her. Her moving is making him dizzy, so he sits and watches her walk about. "Abigail, either sit down or stand still, but for the love of God, quit pacing like a prisoner headed for execution." What an appropriate euphemism. 

"Sorry," she mumbles. This isn't exactly something they do everyday. She takes a fortifying breath. It's now or never... Never sounds good. "Why are you leaving?" 

"Because it's best." She raises an eyebrow and stands defensively by the door. 

"Best for who? You? Me? The girls? Who exactly is it best for?" He can't meet her gaze and looks over her right shoulder silently. She wonders if he even knows the answer to her question. "Well?" 

"I don't have an answer for you." 

"Why not?" 

"You wouldn't understand." She groans in frustration. 

"You keep saying that, but you refuse to let me understand. Tell me. Give me something to tell the girls when they ask where you are, why you left. Don't you think we deserve that? At the very least, don't they deserved that consideration?" 

"They do." 

"Then, please, give me something to tell them so that they don't think you've abandoned this family for your Louisiana Hussy like I'm starting to think you have." She's on a roll and she's hurting. "I can't believe I thought you ever loved me at all. I was convinced that you loved me; in good times and in bad for the past nearly forty years. What a fool I've been. I bet her granddaughter is your granddaughter too. She probably even carries your name, because you're Josiah Bartlet and you'd never deny your child or your grandchild their birthright. You betrayed me, us, for all those years. I thought I was the only one to give you chills." Her eyes are glassy with tears. 

"You are." The door is opened, she's backing away from him as he comes towards her. 

"You betrayed me." He shakes his head to compound his words. He still walks towards her. He sees the staircase coming and keeps an eye out. He knows he'll have to catch her before she falls. 

"I never did." Her heels slips beyond the top step and he sees her start to fall. Faster than her ever thought he could, he steps forward and spins her back into his arms. The motion costs him his balance and he lands on the floor with her still secure in his arms. That's the straw that broke the camel's back. She sobs softly into his shoulder. She tries to escape his arms. He won't let go. Sobs wrack her small frame and she slams her fists into his chest in grief-stricken rage. 

"You left me. You left our children. You never loved me. You never loved our girls. I was just your...thing." The sound of her pain breaks his heart. It must filter down below as he sees two agents coming up the stairs. He shakes his head. Everything's all right. Well, as all right as it can be. They nod and retreat down the steps. 

Abbey is silent in his arms, except for the occasional hiccup. She sniffles, but stays still with her head against his chest. "What's wrong with your heart?" He looks down at her, wondering how she knows. He then, remembers that she's board-certified in Thoracic Surgery and Internal Medicine. Of course, she knows. He shrugs and tries to stand. She isn't having it. Her arms are around his waist and she's a lot stronger than she looks. She just listens, silently counting the beats of his heart. "Josiah, what's wrong with your heart?" She's as imposing as she can be while flushed with a red nose and puffy eyes. That's pretty damned imposing. He shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't know who you think you married, Jed, but you married me and I happen to know a thing or two about the human heart. You have an irregular heartbeat." He doesn't meet her eyes. She doesn't know that that's the least of his health issues at the moment. 

She reaches up and turns his chin so that their eyes meet. "Talk to me." 

"You said it, I have an irregular heartbeat. There it is." She's skeptical. It doesn't take much searching to know that he's attempting to hide within himself. He's hiding from her. 

"That's not all though, is it? There's more, isn't there? What ?" He still refuses to hold her gaze. 

"Can you stand?" She nods, but doesn't appear eager to do so. He pulls her up. Their eyes lock. She sees the fear he's trying so desperately to quell. He's never fooled her as well as he fools himself. He lets her go and walks back to the bedroom, knowing that she will follow. She does. The door is closed behind them. It's just the two of them again. He takes off his jacket and bowtie, unbuttoning his top two buttons. He's wearing suspenders. "Do you want a drink? Scotch, water, maybe?" 

"Water, please." She watches him pour it into a glass and hands it to her. She holds it in her hands and watches as he pours himself a shot of scotch. She wonders if his doctors would approve. She knows that she doesn't. But, of course, she isn't his doctor anymore. She's just his wife and that's beginning to seem like a temporary state. 

"God only knows, "she hears him say. She doesn't understand what he means. 

"What?" He looks surprised as though he didn't realize that he'd spoken aloud. "What does God only know?" He looks both ways for a quick save. He comes to realization and stands straight, looking at her as though he's got a plan. 

"God only knows...the differences between men and women. It's simple, really. No, no, it's oceans deep. His touch is her caress. Her valleys to his peaks. His heights to her depths . She is soft and pliable where he is hard and unyielding." He comes towards her and she steps back, her water still in hand. His eyes are dark with intent. But intent to do what? She already knows. "She is all dips, depths, valleys, and vacation spots. Women, men dream of with dopey smiles on their faces. They ache to possess these beautiful creatures, but they will have none of it. Any undesired touch is rebuffed, any unwanted overture is ignored. These women don't need us, not men. They do fine for themselves and each other. That doesn't mean that occasionally they don't want us." 

She's trapped against the wall. She can just hear the workings of the plane behind the wall. It rumbles at her back. He's so close. He cups her cheek, stroking his thumb across her lips. She kisses the pad of his thumb. Looking into his eyes, she takes his thumb into her mouth. Sucking gently, she runs her tongue across the tip of his thumb. "Do you know how it starts? Do you know how she seduces him...how she makes herself all that he wants? Do you know what she does so that, he'd throw everything he ever had away for just one night inside her...arms." She gasps at his near faux pas 

He isn't embarrassed. He knows what he did. "Do you know?" She shakes her head, all previous questions forgotten. He traces her décolletage gently, stopping when he reaches the bodice of her dress. She perspires. Her scent fills the air. He brushes his lips against her windpipe and glides his mouth to her collarbone. He scrapes his teeth against the sensitive bone and she shutters at the simple pleasure. She pushes her chest forth and he slides a hand up her side to bring her closer still. He nuzzles the exposed swell of her breasts. Her eyes close and her breath catches. 

"She walks by in her everyday clothes, leaving him with little more than a coy glance and a parting shot over her shoulder. Her gait is normal, the motion of her hips is lethal. She stretches and shows a beautiful expanse of flesh that leaves all men adoring and prepared to beg at her feet. She makes sure they dream of her. She licks her lips and peers out at him from under her bangs and long eyelashes. She worries her bottom lip and shifts in her seat, causing her skirt to rise. 

She recrosses her legs and gives a supposed glance of the paradise he dreams of. The room heats up when she arrives; she unbuttons one button on her silk blouse, then another. It's never obscene, always tasteful, elegant. She gives just a peek at the beloved lace hidden beneath. When she speaks, he listens, her lips captivating him, tempting him. He rises with her. He watches her face, but his eyes drift to the now clear cleavage below. She breathes deep. He steps closer. His restraint is waning. That's exactly what she wants." Abbey opens her eyes. They are dark, equally dangerous to that something inside of his. 

"Is it?" He steps away, tempting her to follow. She follows. She's in far too deep to stop. 

"I think so...She loosens another button. She can feel him looking there. Then another. He licks his lip, his hands held at his sides by sheer will alone. One of her bra straps slip off of her shoulder. The bare skin calls to him. He yearns for her. She can read his desire and turns to leave, rebuttoning her blouse and adjusting her bra. She says she'll see him later. He knows it's true. She always does. 

It's late night when she returns. Her hair is still flawless, her makeup, the same. She's changed, though. She's dressed to seduce, to seduce him. She wears a black trench coat. She looks at him, closing the door behind her. He can hear the lock engage. She's coy, but she isn't playing. Do you know what she does, then?" Abbey shakes her head. She doesn't care. "She lets the coat fall to the floor. All she wears now, is a pair of heels and a thigh-length negligee. He can't move. She walks to him, behind his desk. She's all he sees...Just like you." 

Catching her hand by tips of her fingers, he pulls her close. He cradles her face in his hands and kisses the corner of her mouth. His tongue traces the seam of her lips, parting them gently. Their mouths mesh together, their tongues engaged in a dance that is so familiar that neither is truly aware of it. He ends the kiss prematurely, pulling back, but returning to tease her swollen lips with feather-light kisses. She takes him in. She's possessed. 

She stands before him. He holds her face, running his fingers through her curls gently. She only looks into his eyes. She steps closer and he kisses her neck, his arms snug around her. She guides his hand to her zipper and it comes down. His hands take over where her dress ceases to. She pushes it down and it pools around her feet on the floor. She steps out of the puddle of scarlet silk and kicks it to the side. 

No one's going to see her in it for a while. She pulls him to her by his suspenders. She kisses him firmly. He returns it with equal fervor, his hands idly stroking her unclothed back. He walks backwards to the wall, which is closer than the bed. They don't break the kiss as she pushes the suspenders off of his shoulders and starts in on his shirt. Untucking his shirt, she pushes her hands under it, stroking his back with one hand and rakes her fingers through his chest with the other. 

He breaks the kiss to speak. He's retaking control. "His lips to her lips. His palms to her thighs. His mouth to her breasts. His fingers deep into her folds." His eyes never leave hers. She licks her lips, backing away with a coy look in her eyes. 

"Do you want to make love to me or do you want to talk about making love to me?" He stops in his tracks, realizing that he's being led. He won't be led. 

"I don't know. Maybe, I just feel like playing with you." 

"Maybe, I don't want to play. Maybe, I want to fuck." He raises an eyebrow at her. She rarely uses such language. 

"Well, I guess that's a shame for you. Right now, I want to play, but I guess we won't be doing anything." She bites her lip. She knows what she wants, but she wonders what games he likes to play and if she should be interested. Whether she should or shouldn't be, she is. 

"I guess, I'll play your game." 

"That sounds nice enough. But do you know anything about my games? I mean, my games are a little...clandestine. I love blindfolds and silk scarves. Do you like silk scarves, Abigail?" She watches him as he circles her, his eyes perusing her, predatorily. 

"I can like them. I've never gotten too deep into that little world. What would you do with the scarves?" She has a feeling, but she wants that feeling confirmed. She isn't afraid, but she isn't wild about the idea of it either. 

"You already know." She nods. "Do you want to play, Abbey? Do you want to play my game?" She looks at his face, reads his body language, looks for any sign of deception. There's nothing. He's coaxing her, handling her. She hates to be handled. 

"Yeah, I want to play." He smiles at her enticingly. She has the feeling that she's just been handled. 

**Chapter:**


	2. Un Corazon - God Only Knows 2

 

**Un Corazon - God Only Knows**

**by: Regency**

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** Angst, Romance  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I only own Secret Agent Mann.  
**Summary:** Agent Mann's words ring in her ears: From there, how the day ends is in your hands. It's in her hands and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand.  
**Spoiler:** The last episode of the last season of the West Wing.  
**Feedback:** asabbeyaspossible@yahoo.com  
**Author's Note:** Sequel to "Dos Aviones - Right Hand Man." I meant for this to be the end, but it didn't happen that way. So, I guess this will be a trilogy. 

* * *

No Words 

It's dark. She is guided completely and totally by his touch. This is more than darkness. This is an absolute absence of light. It doesn't frighten her, but leaves her wary. Soon, she finds her back to the wall, a familiar wall. She can't see him, but she can feel him. He's still in the room somewhere, watching her. He's somewhere close. 

His footfalls are silent and his gait is masked by the inner workings of the plane beneath her feet. She thinks she feels a touch, the lightest touch across the tops of her thighs. She moves closer, but it's gone. She's sure she felt a warm breath on her neck, but it's only for an instant, an unfathomable instant. He pursues her as one does its prey. She won't be able to escape him for long. He won't allow it. His feelings for her won't let this game to go on for much longer. His lust is stronger than his resolve. The game doesn't matter. It was the end that will fulfill them both. 

She walks slowly, wary of whatever unfamiliar furnishings might adorn the room. She feels a chill spread across the small of her back leaving goose bumps in its wake. She shivers in the suddenly cool room. The chill doesn't last as his eyes set themselves on her in the midst of her quiver and set her afire. She has no idea where he is, but he's closer. She takes a step forward and her knees come into painful contact with a table, she thinks it is. She winces and steps back, nearly falling. Two dependable arms catch her gently, steadying her before moving away in silence. She turns fully around, but knows she will find nothing at all. She finds nothing. Only the air slightly warmed by his presence and quickly cooling at his departure. She wishes for sight at that moment, but short of ending their game, she knows it won't come. And she doesn't want to be the one to end their game. She won't be the one. 

She has to find her way to the bed, that was the beginning of the game, he said. Then, the fun would start. She knows that he's already enjoying himself. She gnaws busily on her lip and moves slowly toward the center of the room where she thinks the bed will reside. She can't remember if there is anything between her and it. She hopes not. She wants to play not be bruised. Her fingers come into light contact with a smooth, cool surface. Her hand follows the line of it forward and down, finding her hands stroking soft down and as she moved around and to, silk. She's found the bed. She stands straight, hiding her apprehension and nervousness. 

"What's next?" Her voice is bold, but tempting. Will he come or make her wait? Moments passed without a word. Then finally, his voice comes, as bold as her own, but commanding and in its own way tempting. It's so close that she can nearly reach out to him. She does. Her fingers touch his hair, tangling themselves in it and very likely mussing it beyond all repair. He sits on the far edge of the bed. 

Capturing her hand in his, he tugs her down onto her knees on the bed and kisses the inside of her palm. The apprehension melts away, but she's still nervous. What if she doesn't play well? 

"Are you nervous?" She shakes her head. She's lying and he knows she's lying. "The first rule of this game is: honesty. Don't lie about your limits. You want something to stop, say so. No code words, just stop. Don't wait for it to improve, just end it. Now, are you nervous?" She nods. She's very nervous. "Good. That'll make it all the better when we get to the fun part. Abbey, I wanna tie you up with a scarf, are you up for it?" 

"Tie me up how?" 

"Your wrists." She licks her dry lips, tension tightening every muscle in her body. She knows he'd never hurt her, but fear is fear, whatever it's origin. 

"Will I be able to get out?" 

"They'll be loose enough for you to get out of without much effort. Would you like to see how it would feel?" She nods and puts both of her hands out. He ties the scarf about both wrists and gives a firm, but gentle tug. She starts at the pressure. "Can you get out of that?" She sucks her teeth and does a perfunctory tug here and there. It gives a little. She begins to try in earnest and extricates her hands in a few seconds. She wiggles her fingers victoriously. "Feeling safer?" She smiled in his general direction. 

"I trust you." He reaches up and presses loving fingers to her cheeks. She smiles softly. 

"Good." His fingers manipulate an errant strand of her fallen into her face. "Lay down." Abbey's ready to play. 

"How?" 

"However you feel most comfortable." 

"Okay." He helps her lower herself onto the bed on her back. This is how she wishes to lay. So be it. He loops the scarves around the headboard and gives a perfunctory tug for her benefit. She nods her understanding. She has to feel safe. They can't play if she doesn't feel safe. 

"Are you hungry?" She thinks, W _hat a strange question that is_ , but nods nonetheless. She isn't really, but doesn't want to say no to whatever else he has in mind. "How about some cherries?" 

"Cherries sound nice. Freshly picked, I hope." 

"Oh yes, only the best for you, sweetknees." She smiles softly feeling him smiling in return. She's in for the quite the evening. 

He sits down at her side and gives a light kiss, daring only slightly to deepen it. He pulls away and she mourns the loss of his lips on hers. He strokes her chin with a single finger eliciting a purr from the back of her throat. 

"Shh. We'll get back to that in a moment, but I feel like snacking." He takes a single cherry with its stem still intact and he drags it across her windpipe. She likes how that feels. She feels it rub against the skin of her teeth and licks out her tongue, catching just the tip of it. She got only the brief taste of cherry the skin offered before it was taken away. To her pleasure, something much more pleasant replaces the cherry against her lips. His lips. She parts her lips and accepts the invasion of his tongue into her mouth. 

He takes her, restrained from him, but free. She doesn't believe in resistance tonight. She doesn't know what the morning will hold and fears even the notion of a moment beyond the one in which she lives. 

She hears his clothes fall one by one from his body and waits impatiently for her lot. He has complete control of her now and she feels more connected to him now than ever before. He's gone for a moment too long and she writhes a little. Just when she's about to call out for him, a light touch on her thigh stops her. It takes her a moment to identify it, but in that moment she becomes more aroused than she ever thought possible. 

He runs the feather along the chasm between her thighs, across the lacey surface of her panties, up past her navel and higher to the valley between her breasts, circling them lightly and finally coming to rest at the hollow of her throat. She holds her breath and waits. 

The feather returns. Now, at her knees, down her calves, around her ankles and back up. He follows the curve of her figure, up her arm to her wrist and tickles her palms. She barely notices, because his mouth has taken another path and attacks her décolletage with the desperation of a dying man with his lover. He needs her. There'll be marks there in the morning. 

~~~~~~ 

She stretches her fingers to the headboard and her toes to the end of the bed. It takes her a moment to realize that her hands are unbound and that she's no longer blindfolded. She rolls her shoulders and looks around the room and comes to the conclusion that she's on Air Force One. She has no idea how she's gotten there. And where is Jed? She pulls the sheets that cover her higher and steps off of the bed, looking around cautiously. After everything, this...whatever it has been, he wouldn't do this anyway. Would he? She wants to believe better of him, but he's given her no reason to. She sees a piece of Oval Office stationary folded on top of the dresser against the wall. She walks to it, still looking around, hoping that he'll come back in time to stop her. Somehow, she already knows what it says. Gathering the sheets tighter around her with one hand, she unfolds the letter. It reads: 

_Dear Abbey,_

If you're reading this, then you've obviously woken up to find me gone. I left a little while after you fell asleep. I didn't want to leave, you have to know that, but there is no other way. There are things that are happening that I can't tell you about; it's not a conspiracy and if I tried to tell you anything it would be little more than a complete lie. You may not agree now, but I think that, in this case, nothing is better than any lie that I can tell you. You know a lie when you read a lie. 

Besides, I could give you a thousand excuses and I know that you're too smart to believe a one of them. Further still, you may not believe me and you have every reason to disbelieve me. I've lied to you and deceived you. I won't ask any further for your forgiveness. I know I sound lost and I am. Lost without you. I'm about to embark on a journey completely alone, without you. This is a first for me. Everywhere I've ever been, you've been there and now you can't be. 

My soul cries out at our parting as do I,   
But I dare not turn back and look   
At your slumbering form for if I do   
Leaving you will be impossible.   
The impossibility of my life. 

There are, as I have said, a thousand excuses that I could make, but what we've had is better than that, will always be better than that. Abbey, I...have just about run out of things to say except that I'm sorry and I love you. In the words of Romeo...or Juliet, one of 'em, anyway. "Parting is such sweet sorrow"...and it is. God, it is. 

And Abbey, about what you said earlier. If you "fall in love," I'll be happy, because that will hopefully mean that you've found joy again. That's all I want for you. I just wish I could be there to experience it with you. It's probably better that I'm not. 

Yeah, honey...I have to leave now. I have flight to catch and hole to fall into. I'm sorry for the lies that I've told you and promises that I haven't kept. I'm sorry for everything that's happened. I'm even sorrier for leaving. I wanted to stay next to you and think of what our life together would bring, but I can't because I'd start to believe that we could really have that life. We can't have that life; you can't have it with me. I really have to leave now, lots of ground to make up for... 

I hope your dreams give you comfort and that the love we have shared does not sour on your tongue. Our love has been more than beautiful, but in it's own way holy and true despite all of the mistruths within. Our love is greater in its absence than it can ever be in presence. Our love will always be our love... No one else can ever hope to possess or understand it. Not even us. 

Goodbye, Abigail. 

Always right where you think I'm not, 

Jed. 

Unable to fully comprehend what has just happened to her, Abbey takes the letter back with her and rests on the edge of the bed. The letter was obviously written in a rush, it's nearly illegible in some places and un-Jed-like in others. So much to say, and there are no words. 

No words. 

So lost is she in the wake of a deception months in the making that she dares not ask herself the obvious, but painful questions. She allows herself to wonder only this as she lightly touches the dark marks on her throat. How the hell did they get me from that plane to this one without me being seen? That was one of those questions she didn't really need the answer to. 

_There are no words._

None. 


End file.
